One-Shot: Temptation
by sivvussa
Summary: One-Shot. Numair gets Daine a birthday present which Kitten just cannot resist. And since the humans are so wrapped up in each other anyway, who will notice a little... heist? D/N (naturally!) set just before ROTG. For the one-word/one-shot challenge: "Temptation".


Writing Prompt Challenge #1: 'Temptation'

A/N: This is from the Facebook group, who set a challenge every week to write a one-shot from a keyword. This week was 'temptation'. I've decided to work a little on my short-story skills since my big stories are getting _massive (!) _So this is my D/N fic about 'temptation'. It's set just before the start of ROTG (but after the barrier falls, so after the introduction) but as to whose temptation I've described, you'll have to read on!

I'll probably be doing a few more of these. Would you guys prefer them all in one fic, or as lots of separate stories?

888

Kitten peered over the edge of the table, careful not to let her claws scrape against the wood. The furniture was already marked with thousands of scratches and scrapes, but the dragonet had found out to her annoyance that what was acceptable for a squirrel was considered very bad manners for herself!

She had sulked for days when Daine had scolded her for leaving a long scratch with her silver claws on the hearth stone. Her adopted mother let the dragon storm around, and then gently drew the cub into her lap and cuddled her. She explained in her soft, matter-of-fact way that squirrels were all very well and good, but that they weren't invited to balls and banquets like the little immortal. Kitten had to learn to behave herself, and set a good example for the others, not sulk like a little baby!

Kitten had whistled some half-felt apology, wriggled free, and after that she made more of an effort not to scratch at things. Sometimes when she was annoyed she would run her claws along the furniture just to be pert, but today she was not annoyed. Today she was curious. There was something very interesting on the table. Something that Kit didn't see very often. And Kit wasn't allowed anywhere near it, so of course she had to investigate!

She drew herself up towards it, carefully balancing herself with her tail as she climbed up into the chair and rested her chin on the edge of the table. There it was, still and silent in the empty room. Kitten breathed in deeply and sneezed at the thick scent that immediately flooded her nostrils.

"Kit? What are you doing?" The dragon peeped in surprise and jumped down, but not quickly enough. The speaker caught her easily. He lifted her up to eye height, which was a lot higher than the dragon's normal place in Daine's arms, and met her eyes seriously. "What are you doing, little mischief maker? I saw you prying!"

Kit whistled and wriggled, but Numair didn't let her go. Sighing, she dangled limply from the mage's arms and, defeated, pointed apologetically at the thing she'd been investigating. To her surprise, the human didn't tell her off, but shifted her weight in his arms and smiled.

"What do you think?" He asked, carrying the dragon closer to the table. "It's a surprise. Do you think she'll like it?"

Kitten whistled softly and stared. Seeing the thing from above was completely different from seeing it from the sides, or smelling it. From the sides it looked like nothing, like a ceramic bowl and some brown bread had been left here after breakfast and forgotten about. Kit had been able to see _that _from the floor, and she hadn't seen anything beautiful about it. But the smell... cinnamon, and raisins, and eggs and honey and other things the dragon couldn't name, all mixed together. It might look like bread, but it smelled like it came straight from the divine realms. The dragon had never guessed that, seen from above, the thing would be beautiful to look at as well.

"She said she didn't want a fuss. Not with the war, and all our friends off fighting." Numair said, almost to himself, but partly to the dragonet. "But it's still her birthday, and, you know..." he smiled at the immortal. "We humans don't get as many birthdays as you dragons, so we like to make a bit of an effort."

Kit snorted scornfully and wriggled enough that the man relented and put her down on the table. She padded closer to the cake, watching it with huge eyes as if the thing would jump up and bite her. She'd thought that the thing called _cake_ was smaller, something that came in slices and already on a plate. That was how it was always served in the great hall when the dragon had been given it before. Those cakes were white and soft, served with whipped cream and fruit when it was in season. They tasted thick and sweet and rich, showing off the bounty of the king's table. This cake was different. It smelled spicy and dark and warm, as if it were made to be eaten next to a warm hearth while the snow howled outside. With her usual greedy curiosity the dragon was captivated. She reached out and carefully hooked a stray raisin off the edge of the plate, sniffing at it.

"It's from Galla." Numair explained, and Kit whistled enquiringly. He smiled, understanding her question with the causal ease that the dragon had always liked. "I asked one of the travelling merchants for the recipe for it. Daine mentioned it last year and I wondered if we would have the ingredients here in Tortall for it. Turns out we do."

Kitten made a dismissive gesture and turned back to the cake. She knew the man's habit of exaggerating very well, and whatever story he had for finding a simple recipe was going to be nowhere near as interesting as the actual cake itself! She sniffed at it cautiously, and then looked around. Her eyes widened pitifully at the human as her stomach rumbled loudly.

"No, Kit." He said, his voice stern enough that she knew he wasn't joking. He covered the cake with a cloth and carefully moved it from the table to a higher shelf that the dragon knew from numerous failed attempts was unreachable. She cooed in disappointment and jumped down from the table, and then squeaked and forgot her mood in an instant. Like an excited puppy, she bounded to the door and hurled herself at the girl who was coming through it.

"Hullo, Kit," Daine picked her up and cuddled her, her voice soft. "How has today been? Has he been looking after you? You've not been wearing yourself out, have you?"

"You left her here before dawn, and it's after dark now, Daine." Numair's voice was dry, and Kitten rumbled a rude response as he continued, "If she's working too hard, she's probably just copying you."

"Did she get a lecture, too?" Daine held the dragon closer for a moment, but she wasn't angry at being scolded – Kitten was confused to see the slight smile on her adopted mother's face. _She _certainly wouldn't be smiling! Numair pulled a face and opened one of the cupboards in the main room.

"I don't know which one of you would be less likely to listen to me! Have you eaten?"

"No – I was working. But I've finished now." Daine added quickly, putting the dragon down and helping him to find plates in the general chaos. "Today was the last day they needed me. I'm glad. I don't like doing that. I wish they wouldn't ask me."

"Why? What was it?" He asked as they sat down together and started portioning out food. Daine shrugged.

"They're training up the new recruits too quickly. As soon as they can fight without dropping their spears they're sent off against the immortals. They're doing the same thing with the ponies, so they have all these half-trained horses and skittish yearlings who are barely broken in, sent to scout in the forest, and… and they know it's going to get worse when they're sent away. They're terrified. There were a lot of accidents, and a fair few of them started bolting or rearing up. So I was asked to come and help. A lot of the knights think that there's some mystic magic I can cast to transform a trembling foal into a fearless war-horse. I can't do that. I wouldn't, even if I could."

"So what did you do?" Numair had stopped eating, and was watching his friend with sympathy. Daine shook her head.

"I just spoke to them, every single one of them. I told them what to expect, I asked them what they were afraid of, and I taught them how they could keep themselves as safe as possible. And I hated every second of it."

Kitten yawned loudly and tapped her claws against the floor, but neither of the humans seemed to hear her. She wondered if any of the castle mousers would be sleeping in Daine's room tonight. She liked teasing the strange, mangy cats almost as much as they liked cuddling up to the warm dragon's soft hide. Thinking about the cats only scared away the immortal's boredom for a moment, and then she stretched idly and looked up again.

Daine had put her food down, as if her ravenous hunger had completely vanished. She started tearing her bread into shreds with her fingernails. She didn't look up at Numair as she spoke, and her voice was bitter. "They don't have a choice, you know? The men- the soldiers they're training- they choose to enlist. They might have decided to make weapons, or farm the land, or become merchants, but they chose to be soldiers. The ponies never got a choice. They can't say, 'we're scared, we don't like fighting, we don't want to get hurt, we don't want to die', because who would hear them? I'm the only person who can listen to their fears, and even then I can't change anything for them. They can't leave and have another life. And I hate it."

Numair was silent for a long time, and then he sighed. "There are a lot of people fighting in this war who didn't have a choice."

Daine blinked at him for a second, and then looked away. "I know."

Kitten could normally follow the humans' conversation easily enough, but she was tired from keeping immortals away from the palace and so her mind flitted away too quickly to really care what they were talking about. She could tell that her mother was upset, though, and stopped making noise to nuzzle briefly against the girl's leg. Daine looked down and smiled, but her voice was a little distant when she said, "Kit, I'm covered in mud. Well… mostly mud. You'll get filthy."

The dragon made a dismissive sound and huffed away, feeling cheated. She knew that as soon as they were back in their own rooms her mother would cuddle her and talk to her and tenderly smooth dust from every single scale on her back, but not now. Not when she was speaking with Numair. Whenever they were together the two humans seemed to forget that there was anyone else in the world. Even wonderful, clever little dragons who could whistle locks open couldn't get a word in edgeways! Kitten huffed and sat down heavily, causing a small avalanche of the mage's papers.

Then she paused. Her nose twitched, and she looked up slowly. There, just edging over the end of the shelf, was a hanging piece of cloth. It smelled of spices, and eggs, and honey. It smelled wonderful. Kitten took a deep breath, losing herself in the scent for a moment, and then her eyes narrowed.

It was obvious. If the humans wouldn't notice her, then they wouldn't notice the cake disappearing. It would be the perfect crime. The perfect heist for the perfect cake.

The temptation was just too much. The dragon raised herself onto her hind legs, and then carefully pulled herself up the skirting board onto the table. Raising her snout enough so she could just see the edge of the cloth, she hummed a low, warbling note. The edge of the cloth waved a little, as if a breeze had drifted into the room, but nothing else happened. Kitten bleated out an annoyed noise and crouched back down, eyes narrowing as she plotted.

Numair stood up and moved to sit next to Daine, carefully taking her hands so she would stop tearing at her bread. "I wish you wouldn't upset yourself like this." He said, his voice soft. "You know you did everything you could. There's nothing else you can do for them, but I'm sure they'll fare better now that you've helped them understand. They wouldn't want you to worry about them – it won't help!"

She looked up for a moment and her mouth quirked in an odd smile. "Coming from you that's a little rich, Numair. You worry a _lot." _

"Only about you, magelet, and there is only one of you." He tweaked her nose playfully. "How many horses did you say there were?"

She flushed and looked away, and whatever playfulness had been in her eyes faded. "I wish you wouldn't worry about me, you know. Not if it upsets you like this."

He hesitated, and for a moment looked like he was going to say something. Then he stopped himself. Carefully not meeting her grey eyes, he said, "Sometimes I can't help it."

Daine looked up then, frowning, but before she could ask the question forming on her lips they were both startled by a loud crash. Kitten squawked and darted away between their feet to hide under the table, gibbering to herself as shards of broken crockery scattered across the floorboards. Daine gasped and covered her mouth, while Numair started laughing helplessly. He pointed at a crumpled mess lying near a shelf. Kitten and a few of the castle stray cats were already gathering around it with cautious, greedy curiosity.

"It's your cake!" Numair stood up, and his words were barely coherent as he started laughing in earnest. He began picking up pieces of the cake, warding off animals with a highly amused gesture. "For your birthday. I'm sorry."

"It's my birthday?" Daine bit her lip, and then burst out laughing too. She got up and knelt down to help him, letting the cats examine the worst damaged pieces. "You're right! How did I forget? And how did _you _remember? You don't even remember the month we're in, most days!"

"I resent that. I know for a fact that it's… oh." The man pulled a face, "I guess remembering your birthday made me forget that, then."

Daine smothered a giggle and then held out a hand, making her voice very stern. "Oh no, you. I see you trying to sneak off with that cake, Kit. Get back here."

A rude croak answered that order, although it was muffled slightly after travelling through a mouthful of raisins. Daine folded her arms and shook her head, her chin set in a stubborn line.

"No, Kit. You come back here and apologise to Numair right now for breaking his cake."

"It was your cake, technically." The man pointed out mildly, watching the dragon pantomime out a stubborn refusal and try to slink off behind a desk. Daine shot him a look filled with wicked humour, and then said out loud,

"He said he'll turn you into a tree, Kit. I'd get out here, if I were you!"

"_One time _I did that, Daine!" Numair couldn't stop himself from laughing at the speed that Kitten reached as she bolted towards her mother. The little dragon's eyes were wide with apologetic fear as she stared at the mage, and he tried to stop laughing. "It seems to be an effective deterrent."

"She respects magic." Daine looked at the dragon sternly and then put her down on the floor. "Well, Kit?"

The dragon cooed something contrite, and then gulped and made the same noise again, louder. She looked anxiously up, and exhaled in a relieved sigh when the man smiled at her. He held out a hand and she solemnly placed one paw into it.

"Thank you for apologising, mischief." He told her seriously. "Will you apologise to your mother, too? You spoiled her birthday present."

Kitten narrowed her eyes, and peered at the pile of crumbs that had been gathered. Concentrating, she raised her hackles and hissed softly at the cake. Silvery magic glittered around some of the crumbs for a moment, and then with a sudden loud clap and a burst of light the crumbs flew together and fused. When their eyes cleared there was a cake where the crumbs had been- misshapen, burned now in odd places and crumbling away on one side, but definitely a cake.

"I won't ask where you learned that," Daine whispered confidingly to the dragon. The girl tickled Kitten under the chin affectionately, smiling when the little immortal cooed and tilted her head back. "Thank you."

The dragon bowed her head, gracefully acknowledging the gratitude of these mortals for the impressive gift of dragon magic, and then picked up the chunk of cake she'd been dragging away and carried it, with dignity, into the next room. One of the cats mewed loudly after her, and then sauntered over to the repaired cake with feline nonchalance. Purring loudly, the creature took a great bite of the cake. It paused, eyes widening, and then wailed loudly.

"It's like a nursery in here," Numair muttered wryly, sweeping the last of the fallen crumbs away into the hearth. Daine ignored him, holding her hands out to the cat and speaking silently to it. It writhed dramatically in her arms, and then dropped away and sped after Kitten with murder in its gaze.

"So, uhm… the cake." Daine started, and tried to hide a smile as she looked up at her friend. "I don't think you're going to like this. Kitten's magic is… er…" she picked up the cake. It took her both hands, and she gasped a little as she lifted it.

"She turned it into _stone?" _Numair started laughing again, leaning against the hearth. Daine laughed with him, turning the mass around slowly and examining the paralysed raisins.

"And she was so proud of herself!"

"Proud? I bet she did it on purpose. You will note that _her _piece of cake was unharmed!"

"Well," Daine said, carefully putting the heavy mass down on the table, which creaked, "I guess it's a gift I'll remember forever. Or, at least, I'll keep it forever. Imagine how hurt she'll be if I ever get rid of it!"

"Get rid of it? We could fire it from a siege catapult and the enemy would open the portcullis to give it back!"

"Sounds like a good strategy to me." Daine smiled and walked over to Numair so she could hug him. Surprised, he hugged her back, and she rested her head against his chest for a moment. "Thank you for my present, Numair. Even if it wasn't what you planned, I love it."

He stroked her hair gently, feeling the tension in her shoulders fading as she cuddled closer. He held her silently for a long time, wishing that he could stop everything that worried her from reaching her. He missed these moments, when the world was quiet and the war seemed very far away. He wanted to tell her so, but something stopped him. Some feeling that if he started speaking, he would tell her everything. That he would say the wrong thing and she would turn away from him, and this innocent peace would vanish. He thought all of these things as he held her gently in his arms, listening to the sleepy sigh of her breathing, and all he could say was, "I'm glad. It's good to see you smile, sweetling."


End file.
